


Recruits

by Trojie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Gen, Politics, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4366712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No-one, but no-one, is taking Merlin away from Hunith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recruits

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This is not enough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/397903) by [Trojie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie). 



> This is the prequel that I have been sitting on for a while.

***

_1992_  


'- on the eve of what could be the biggest election in recent history, Prime Ministerial hopeful Uther Pendragon's wife has gone into labour -'

' - early counts suggest Pendragon's Conservative Party are in the lead in the Midlands -'

'- everything looks to be coming up golden for Pendragon this year -'

'- after the fires in Somerset and the riot at the Science museum, the public are growing increasingly wary of the Magical lobby. The parties who have in the past spoken out on behalf of witches and wizards have been silent on the subject in the weeks leading up to election night. The picket line in Stonehenge still has not broken, with police in riot gear and the Armed Offenders squad out in force -'

'- the Conservative no-compromise stance on Magic is likely what's tipping the votes their way, I'd say -'

'- the last few votes are coming through now, we're hoping for a provisional count by the end of the hour -'

'And yes, the Conservatives have it!'

'- our new Prime Minister, Uther Pendragon, shown here celebrating in characteristic style with his supporters -'

'Good morning, Britain. It's a brand new day and we have a brand new government -'

'In breaking news -'

'- we've just been informed -'

' - sad news for our Prime Minister on this, his first day in the job -

'- can report that Igraine Pendragon has died this morning giving birth to Prime Minister Uther Pendragon's first child -'

\- a boy, named Arthur, is in good health, but -

'- the family ask for privacy in this difficult time.'

***

_1994_  


There's no father listed on Merlin Emrys's birth certificate. Hunith isn't stupid. But despite the fact that they don't know for sure that he's Balinor's son, the authorities still come to 'test' him when he's two. Hunith's a known sympathiser, after all. She even spent three months in Holloway Prison for harbouring a sorceror. She's fair game, and so's Merlin.

Hunith would say she was just being paranoid if she hadn't seen her lover dragged away by the police early one morning two years ago, no warrant, no warning, no trial. No return.

'And if you could just hold your son up,' says the Government-appointed early-childhood nurse, Miss Way, and she waves a coloured ball on a string just out of Merlin's reach. He makes a swipe at it, but doesn't do anything else, anything magical. Hunith is careful not to be relieved.

'He's never shown any of the signs?' the nurse asks. She gave Hunith a pamphlet to read while she did some of her tests. She practically pronounces 'signs' with a capital S.

'No,' says Hunith, and she's being completely truthful. Merlin has never done any of the things the pamphlet lists.

'He's never called or controlled pets? He doesn't incant words that you don't understand?'

Hunith shrugs. 'Not unless you count normal toddler gibberish.'

'No coloured lights? Pictures in the steam over a cooking pot, say?'

'He's a normal toddler, Miss Way. He's never done anything unusual.'

Miss Way smiles, her red lipstick, which matches her blood-coloured dress, curving upwards, and starts to pack away the toys she was trying to use to tease a magical reaction out of Merlin. Hunith jiggles her boy on her knee and waits for this hateful woman to get out of her flat. 'We'll keep checking back on you two, of course,' Miss Way says, still smiling. 'But he seems like he's developing quite normally.'

When she's gone, Hunith puts Merlin down on the mat and goes to put the kettle on for a much-needed cup of tea and make up a bottle. When she pops her head back into the living room, Merlin makes a happy damp bubbling noise at her and waves.

His bottle goes lazily flying into his grasp.

His hand-eye coordination is really advanced for a two year old. And fortunately, telekinesis without the aid of spells is not on the pamphlet.

***

_1996_  


Miss Way keeps coming back. Hunith gets suspicious (well, more suspicious, or suspicious in a different direction) when she stops bringing paperwork.

'You've done an amazing job keeping him under the radar,' Miss Way says. 'But it's not going to last. Better let me take him.'

Hunith keeps a tight arm around Merlin where he's squirming a bit on her lap. He's four. 'Don't be ridiculous,' she bites out. 'He's perfectly normal. The government still hasn't managed to pass laws that'll let you take away _normal_ children.' She can't keep the bitterness of 'normal' from her tone, try as she might. _Normal_ people can't be arrested without cause. _Normal_ people don't have to lie awake in their beds when police cars go past. _Normal_ people have to commit crimes, they can't _be_ them.

Miss Way laughs. 'Oh, my dear. No, they haven't. But he's not 'perfectly normal', and I'm not the government. You want equality, don't you? I know who you are - who his father was. Of course you want equality. You're one of us, even if you've not got power of your own. Well, let me train your boy, and maybe one day you'll get your equality, and you can welcome your son home proudly as a hero.' She steeples her fingers and leans forward. 'Come on, Miss Emrys. It's a miracle you've managed to keep him this long. If he goes to school and puts a single toe out of line, gives his teachers any reason to suspect, he'll be taken. You know it's true. And then you'll never see him again.'

'He knows how to be safe,' Hunith retorts. 'And what kind of alternative can you offer him, anyway?'

'Training.' Miss Way says. 'The knowledge to use his power, the reasons he's not allowed to.' She pauses, and then adds, 'Where and how to strike, when we're ready.' And on the word 'strike' Hunith remembers her, properly - who she is.

She swore this woman and her, her _kind_ would never come into her life again. And yet here she is, worming her way in. 'I'm not letting my son become some kind of soldier,' Hunith snaps. 'You're advocating terrorism.'

'We're fighting for our freedom.'

'I've heard that before. And then Stonehenge happened.'

They hold each other's gaze for a second, Hunith shaking with the effort of keeping her anger under control. How dare this woman come here and try to take her son? How dare she talk about war and equality under this roof, where Balinor used to sit and talk about politics and protest, and peace?

'I could just take him,' says Nimueh, in a low voice. It's not threatening, yet. It's … considering.

'Over my dead body,' Hunith hisses, and that isn't considering at all.

'It would have to be,' the witch agrees. 'But that wouldn't be hard. Not for me. I'd just have to snap my fingers, Miss Emrys. That's all it would take.'

'You'd kill a mother to take her son as your footsoldier?' Hunith asks, fear starting to prickle through. _What would happen to Merlin, if -_

Nimueh smiles. 'Your son's no footsoldier,' she says, and she stands up, starts to come closer. 'With his power? His potential? Merlin would be the leader of us all once he came of age.' She reaches out for the child in Hunith's arms. 'Let me take him, Miss Emrys. Let him have his great future.'

'You'll get him killed,' Hunith says, trembling but trying to stay calm for Merlin's sake. He's twisting in her arms, not liking being clutched, but she can't, she _can't_ let him go. 'You'll get him killed, just like his father. Get out of my house, Nimueh. You're not welcome here any more.'

It's like the words have some power to them, or perhaps the witch can just see how much Hunith means it.

'He won't be your baby forever,' Nimueh warns as she picks up her coat. 'One day he'll be old enough to want to know why the world won't accept him. One day, he'll be old enough to want to fight.'

Hunith holds her son tight, _prays_ , as if prayer ever did any good, that he won't choose what Nimueh will certainly offer him when the time comes. But she knows he'll be his father's son, through and through, and she won't lie to him or refuse him. 'If he does, then he'll make his own choices,' she says.

Nimueh lets herself out, smirking.


End file.
